Talk:Nova/@comment-25065826-20150124215733/@comment-25065826-20150125151551
When I wake up, everything is perfectly fine. Normal, you could say, if you live in a bloody freezing forest. I guess a bit... quiet, but otherwise fine. I stay still, and after a few seconds, I realise why. I can hear whispering. I look from the corner of my eyes, and when I can't see with my eye, tilt my head slightly and see a figure on a phone. A few metres away. "No, it's them... No... I mean..." Hmm. Sounds like a man. When they turn around, I see their face. Michael. He hangs up, and slumps down in his designated space in our circle. His face in his hands, he sighs. "All ok, Michael?" I ask. He jerks his head upwards, and he looks downcast again. "Urgh, yeah. I guess." I walk over, sit down near him. "Get away from me." He obviously feels a bit... off... "No. What's wrong?" And he pulls out a pistol from his pocket. Pushes the safety off, and points it at Hannah. "All of you." I gasp, and my eyes widen. He starts talking. "Do you want to know my power, Niamh?" I can't move. His finger on that trigger looks like it'll tense at the slightest bad movement. I nod with my heart in my throat. Keeping one hand, with the gun aimed at Hannah's sleeping shape, steady, he reaches to his face. Puts a finger in his eye. Does the same with the other one. And pulls out a purple disk. His eyes are blue. He puts the contact lenses in his pocket. His hand tenses around the trigger. I don't know what to do. "How... But..." And nothing else comes out. But it makes no difference, he keeps talking anyway. "Did I do a good job of acting? No, never mind. I don't think your answer would be legible anyway. I'll do the talking, shall I?" I don't give him a reply. He takes it as a yes. "Haven't you suspected anything? Well, I've always wondered why villains spill their plans when they have a winning edge on their enemies. I understand now. What's the point in coming up with a good plan if no-one knows about it?" I don't move. Hannah can't die... I've already lost one member of my family. If only that gun was aimed at me. "Ok. I'll go slowly, shall I? Hmm... Ok. The house we were in yesterday. Well, me and Emma were the last to fall asleep. And I needed my phone charging. So, she eventually decided to help me, but the phone charged amazingly quickly and the energy shot upwards. The house was ablaze. I knocked her unconscious, and got the others out. Which also helped me get a more respected part of the group." "But why did I need my phone? Have you seen the news? You have £100,000 on your head, as do the rest of the group. And me, I'm normal - if I hand you over, I'm fine. £400,000 better off, in fact. It's not family I've been phoning. That pile of crap-of-a-brother over there's made my life bad. I have nothing. He has everything, and all because of a few seizures now and then. No, I've been phoning the police. How do you think they've found us so many times? I've tried so many times, and you've just upped your game each time. But hey, if your sister is dead, you won't be such a pain, will you?" I give him the most intimidating look I can. And although he's shocked, his hand just tightens of the pistol. I can't let him shoot... "The notebook isn't art, either. It's records. Have a look." He pulls the book from his pocket, and throws it at me. I carefully flick through it. The only art is on the front page - it's that waterhole scene. "Johnny did that for me. Before all this kicked off." The rest is a day-by-day diary of events our group's done. And other bits of information. I can't quite believe it. "But... who were you phoning just then?" "Oh the police! I thought you'd have known that, Niamh!" He keep talking. I'm amazed no one's woken up yet, it's been 10 minutes. Still no sign of police, though. If that counts as a positive. The airport was clear because of him. The ambush in Africa, after the market, was him. A lot of it. Almost all. And then, sirens. "Ah, look! They're here!" Michael smiles. He puts the gun down, and crawls over to the others. "Wake up! There are police here!" I can't believe it. He's so evil. He tries killing us, gets armed forces on us, but he's portraying himself as our saviour. And he's going to get away with almost half a million pounds, because he doesn't have this bloody, cursed, life-ruining disease that no-one asked for, no-one wanted, but it's destroying the world anyway. I hate him. Hate him. But he's outsmarted us all. He's got everyone up in a second. He has his back to me. But who's the bad guy if I attack him now? I probably shouldn't want my hands around his neck, he hasn't killed anyone, we've escaped the police many times before. But it's the thought that counts, Niamh, and he had a gun at your sister moments ago... The police pull up really close. Another of Michaels ideas, getting us easily accessible? With essentials in our bags, we're sprinting off through the forest, away from the officers after us. Vine, bush, tree, ice, shrub... Green and white flash past as I run. I hate him. But no-one's going to believe me, are they? We spread out a bit, and I hear gunfire behind us. Emma is on my right, and disappears from view as the ground goes lower as she runs. We're all sprinting. These officers are imposing. But I'm not concerned about them. I'm running, yes. But from him. He, the bastard that he is. On my heels. And then, right in front of me, ice. A gigantic pool of water, topped with ice. We can't turn, though. I look behind me, and there are police running up behind us. You can't go over it, you can't go under it, you'll have to go through it... I could float. But I'd just get shot down. And then, Emma breaks the clearing. Sprinting, right over the ice. She jumps. Gunfire bangs in the air. And the bullets hit the ice in front of her. She lands, tries swerving out of the way, but slips. And vanishes with a shriek under the ice.